Shieldmaiden
by TolkienScribe
Summary: A nobleman enters the feast in Faramir's domain with dark intentions. And Éowyn may be the wife of a Steward and a Princess as well as a mother, but that does not make her any less of an opponent. A humourous oneshot. Complete. Part of the Green Leaves universe. Please read and review!


**Shieldmaiden**

 **Summary:** A nobleman enters the feast in Faramir's domain with dark intentions. And Éowyn may be the wife of a Steward and a Princess as well as a mother, but that does not make her any less of an opponent.

 **Disclaimer:** I own the poor soul in this. Someone has to, after Tolkien's characters are through with him.

 **Rating:** T.

All of my stories are interconnected unless stated otherwise but you do not need to read one to understand the other.

My stories are now available in the form of a list in chronological sequence on my bio.

As for this story, I cannot resist. :P

Enjoy!

 **~S~**

 _Ithilien,_

 _Fourth Age,_

Amlugion, a young lord trying to better himself among the nobles of Gondor, leaned closer to Éowyn more than was proper.

"If he did that to my wife, I would have torn his arms off and fed them to him," Amrothos said to Faramir casually. His cousin only grinned.

"And that, Amrothos, is the difference between you and me. You still hold on to your primitive, boorish beliefs whereas I turned and embodied the basics of civilisation." Faramir answered smoothly. Amlugion took her hand and pressed a kiss on its back. Éowyn pulled it free with a polite smile.

"You are also woefully immodest." Amrothos retorted. Legolas sighed.

"Children, play nice," he placated them. "Éowyn is more than capable of handling love struck men on her own."

"It is not about whether our wives can handle themselves," Amrothos insisted. "It is about boundaries! He is overstepping them."

Faramir, a soft and cultured man who always wore a mask of politeness in such gatherings of nobles, only sipped from his glass and shook his head.

"Éowyn will never forgive me if I meddle in everything related to her," Faramir explained mildly. "Look, she is doing quite well on her own."

They turned just in time to see Éowyn flash Amlugion a tolerable smile.

"See?" Legolas soothed. "She knows how to handle it herself."

"I thought Amlugion is among the few lords who believe there is no possibility of peace between Gondor and Harad." Legolas commented.

"He is." Faramir agreed. Amrothos was surprised.

"I also heard that he had a massive argument with you about your decision to approve a treaty between us." Amrothos said to Faramir cautiously. The Steward of Gondor, and also one of Aragorn's closest advisors, nodded.

"We did." Faramir confirmed. Amrothos stared at him with an open mouth, aghast.

"And you invited him here?"

"Please try to speak sense to him," Legolas said. "He will not listen to me." Faramir gave him a sidelong glance.

"We have already been over this," Faramir said patiently. "Maintaining good connections with nobility is the basis of unity in a nation. One must look beyond differences of opinion."

"And what about sharing an interest in your life, the kind that you as a husband have?"

"I will trust my beloved wife to handle the situation and not transgress the boundaries."

"I can't believe you are not even a little jealous-"

"Oh, I am very jealous," Faramir interrupted dryly. "But my wife will never forgive me if I tried to intervene. Alas, I love a very strong-willed woman."

"I still maintain that Amlugion is as worse as a rat," Legolas confessed.

"Ai, better watch where you put your hands," Amrothos muttered darkly under his breath, his eyes fixed on Amlugion. The young noble had placed his hands on Éowyn's hips, as if he insisted on a dance. Éowyn shook her head in refusal and extracted herself from him. Faramir's face became grim.

"Although, I may have some second thoughts on the matter."

"Splendid!" Legolas said brightly. "It means you are reconsidering your invitation to him, of course."

"Oh, no. Inviting a rival is merely a gesture of friendship. I do not regret that." Faramir paused. "But I would like to censure him for the liberties he is taking." Legolas' victorious smile disappeared.

"Faramir, has it ever occurred to you that sometimes you can be wrong?" The Elf demanded.

"Of course. But politics never follows logic."

"Just as I thought," Amrothos muttered. "He lost his head."

"I did indeed, when I set my eyes upon her. I found it again when I proclaimed my love for her and she for me." Faramir answered easily. Amrothos groaned.

"If they fed me pots of boiled sugar, it could not have been any sweeter." Amrothos told his kin. Faramir grinned. Amrothos shook his head and ambled away.

"Where are you going?" Faramir called after him.

"To look for something sour," Amrothos called over his shoulder. Faramir laughed. Legolas shook his head and moved to follow him.

"I still do not like him," Legolas said as he passed Faramir by. The Steward grinned.

"Enjoy yourself," Faramir encouraged.

When night fell and the guests retired, Éowyn returned to the rooms she shared with Faramir.

"Did you enjoy yourself, my lady?" Aida asked as she pulled out a gown and set it on the bed.

"I did," Éowyn answered pleasantly. Then she continued with her usual straightforwardness. "But some parts of the evening were wearying."

Aida stood behind Éowyn, their eyes meeting in the looking-glass.

"Do you mean Lord Amlugion, my lady?" Her handmaiden asked. Éowyn nodded wordlessly. She always confided to Aida. Her handmaiden was slim young girl with plump red cheeks, a small mouth and a long black braid that hung well past her hips. Her pure white skin was a statement to her relationship to the clans that lived high up in the Gondorian Mountains. And above all, Éowyn liked her quality of silence the most. Aida respected her privacy and that of others as well. She never prattled on like a foolish girl.

Aida smiled a little, eyes glimmering in amusement.

"If Lord Amlugion leaned any closer, my lady, I think your husband would have taken the sword to him." Aida remarked dryly. She unhooked the combs from Éowyn's hair with startling ease and turned away to return them into their box. Éowyn glanced at her maid in surprise. Aida's back was toward her, her black braid swaying to and fro.

"I doubt that," Éowyn answered. "Faramir knows full well that I do not require a man's assistance when it comes to dealing with men."

"That might be the reason that kept the lordship leashed, my lady." Aida reasoned. She turned around, her face an expressionless mask. Éowyn clicked her tongue in mild annoyance.

"Oh, speak your mind, Aida. You know I do not like all gossiping theatrics."

Aida did not answer immediately. Instead, she began to work on the elaborate buttons running down Éowyn's back.

"Your lord husband was jealous, my lady," Aida answered. "I do not doubt it. And begging your pardon, if Lord Amlugion had taken another step, he would have skewered him, consequences are damned."

"Faramir?" Éowyn asked, baffled. Then she laughed. "My husband is sharp-witted, but I doubt he would do something so... So-"

"Spontaneous?" Aida suggested, plucking the last button free. She gave the White Lady a strange smile. "Husbands are possessive. A good thing too, if you want to keep them faithful." Éowyn had no answer to that, so she kept her silence.

Éowyn was helped out of her elaborate gown by her maid. Éowyn then pulled the gown away and dressed into one of her comfortable linen gowns in little time.

Suddenly shouts came from the window. Aida dropped Éowyn's dress on the couch and hurried to the window.

"What in Arda happened?" Éowyn demanded.

"A fire, my lady!" She answered in horror.

"Where?" Éowyn demanded, reaching for the window as well.

"The storage rooms, my lady, near the servants' quarters!"

Éowyn looked outside. The hungry yellow and red flames were bright and hot against the dark blue, starlit sky. Men clamoured to bring it under control. The rooms were three in number, built with low ceilings and open windows for ventilation. They contained spices, preserves, dried herbs for the kitchens. The loss was minimal, and the rooms were far enough that the fire would not spread anywhere else.

"I will go down and see what the men are doing," Éowyn decided aloud. She reached the door of her rooms and opened it, but Aida grabbed her hand.

"Oh, please, my lady!" Aida pleaded. "Lord Faramir will be displeased if we let you out in danger."

"Oh, shush," Éowyn answered crisply. "Faramir knows I am no stranger to danger."

"But you are his wife and the mother of his child, my lady! Go inside!" Aida repeated.

"Aida," Éowyn said with renewed sternness. "Go downstairs to the kitchens. The cook will no doubt be taking pots of water for the working men. Go and help them. Now." Aida nodded and left quickly, even if it was done reluctantly. When she left, Éowyn was struck with sudden realisation. The storage rooms that burned were far from the main house, and supplied with little guards. When it burned, it caught the attention of nearly everyone, because it burned near to the servants' quarters.

Not an accident. A distraction.

New purpose lent wings to her feet and she hurried up the steps. She went straight to her son's room and found him blissfully asleep. She smiled and left him quietly. She closed the door carefully.

Something fast shot out from the corner of her left eye. A hand clamped around her neck and pulled her against a hard body behind her. Another hand clamped over her mouth to prevent her from calling out.

She grabbed the man's little finger of the hand clutching her throat and swung it back. It obeyed her gesture with a sickening snap.

The man let her go with a loud agonising scream. Éowyn turned around and blinked in the dimly lit corridor. The man was half-bent over with pain, cradling his injured hand. The greasy black hair and freckled face was unmistakable.

"You idiot," she hissed. "At least do me the decency of putting up a reasonable fight."

She grabbed the nearest object at hand- an ornate ceramic vase and crashed it on her opponent's head. It shattered into pieces. Amlugion collapsed and grabbed Éowyn as he did, taking her down with her. She landed right on top of him. She bent her arm and slammed her elbow right on the bridge of his nose. She heard the satisfying delicate sound of another bone cracking. Amlugion groaned.

He grabbed her by her braid and yanked her back. Pain lanced through her skull. Before he clutched her to his chest, she turned around for him and kneed him, hard, at his groin. The man collapsed and rolled to his side, clutching his privates.

She grabbed a nearby table and tossed it to the ground, sending the vases in numerous broken shards. The table broke one of its legs. She picked it up and faced Amlugion.

Fear was a good teacher. Amlugion crawled backwards, one hand still on Éowyn's most recent target and the over up in the air.

"Mercy," Amlugion begged. It occurred to him quickly that Éowyn would continue the onslaught until she decided to stop.

"You thought I was an easy conquest." Éowyn hissed, her eyes burning bright. "You would have torn me away from my son, and my home. Would you have stopped, if I begged you to leave me here with my husband and son?" She raised her weapon high.

Someone grabbed her wrist just as she drew her arm back. She looked up sharply and found her husband standing stoutly with his feet his shoulders' breadth apart and one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"Enough," he commanded. Feeling the fight leave her, she let go of the broken wood without a fuss. Faramir smiled at her as he studied her figure head to toe. When he found her without harm, he turned his attention to Amlugion. When he finished his silent survey, he returned his attention to Éowyn. His smile went from quizzical to amusement.

"What is it?" She demanded.

"They say that Queen Barúthiel's cats still prowl Gondor in the form of beautiful women who take down any wrong. I am wondering whether married one." Éowyn answered him by a solid punch on his chest. Faramir recoiled, laughing and rubbed where she hit him.

They were distracted by the sound of heavy feet thundering up the stairs. Alfred appeared along with another Ranger. They skidded to a halt in complete awe of the destroyed furniture, Éowyn's flushed face and an injured noble who did not dare rise from the ground.

"Bind him and take him down to the parlour." Faramir said, pointing at Amlugion. "Find a healer. I do not want him suffering from his wounds while I consider what to do with him."

Alfred nodded and helped Amlugion to his feet while his comrade bound his hands behind him. They escorted to the stairs, and Éowyn noticed how they kept their distances as they skirted past her.

Éowyn was suddenly aware of howling coming from the foot of the stairs. She looked at her husband in alarm.

"Who is that?" She demanded.

"That braying would belong to Legolas, who found the thought of a refined noble thrashed by a slip of a woman highly amusing." Faramir said neutrally. He took his wife's hands and inspected them. "Come, I'll take you to our rooms."

"Nonsense! I am well and fine. Do not treat me like some wilting flower in need of tender care."

Faramir shook his head, smiling.

"Leave it to you to mistake a romantic gesture as a sign of weakness." He said, kissing her knuckles. "Come, wife, I believe the servants will need someone overseeing them about the damage done."

Éowyn was fully aware that she was being humoured but Faramir's expression was both commanding and beseechingly. She nodded once and turned away. Faramir grinned and watched her as she descended the steps.

He listened as Éowyn reached the bottom of stairs and spoke to Legolas.

"Get up, Master Dullard! I am in need of extra hands and yours seem to be idle!"

Faramir shook his head and smiled as Legolas' chortles died down and footsteps faded. Once they were gone, he bade passing servants to clear the mess, peeked into his son's room to find the boy was fast asleep and blissfully unaware before going to the parlour.

Faramir was a civilised and mild-mannered man but when it came to matters that were better dealt with bows and swords, he was different entirely. If there was no choice but to kill or punish, Faramir never hesitated.

Amlugion was accommodated on a table and stretched flat on his back. He looked worse for wear, with a swollen eye and wild greasy black hair. Like most nobles, Amlugion was not as muscled as a soldier and barely took part in skirmishes. If he had, he would not have underestimated Éowyn. True, his wife did not follow the same regime as she once did, but she kept herself fit and quick on her feet. His once-friend suffered more at his wife's hands than Faramir was ever capable of delivering. The little finger of his left hand was broken, his nose was broken, his skull was cracked and his privates were-

"-crushed," the healer finished, looking wary and amused at the same time. "Lady Éowyn knows how to handle an enemy."

"What do you expect of the famed Witch-King slayer?" Faramir responded. He turned his attention to the wounded. Faramir appraised him in one fluid motion of his neck. Then he shook his head, a smile tugging his lips.

"You deserved what you got." He told his captive. Then his face darkened. "I invited you to my home in good faith, Amlugion. You have abused my trust. You have committed a grave crime by trying to damage my home that could have led harm to many lives under my care. And you also nearly captured my wife. For that one, at least, Éowyn made sure you paid."

Faramir then pondered what to do. Part of him was greatly tempted to leave Amlugion be. The court of Gondor consisted of nobles that fed upon gossip like vultures and ravens feeding upon carrion. Amlugion would know no peace from them.

And no noble liked to admit he was beaten to the inch of his life by a woman. It was mortifying. Amlugion will remain the laughing stock of the entire nobility for months, or even years if he was unlucky.

Faramir laughed scornfully and leaned one shoulder against the wall.

"Go back to your father and tell him you were unsuccessful," Faramir mocked him. "It was a foolish plan and it is only a pity my wife did not ruin you a bit more before I came on her. She is creative, is she not? The lack of sword nearby does that to her. You should see her with a sword." The young man paled considerably. "Even the youth are frightened of confronting her if she ever decides to teach them about swords herself."

Amlugion looked miserable and Faramir found pity somewhere in his heart for him.

"You are still young," Faramir noted. "Your mistakes are understandable. If you learn more about propriety, art of war and politics, and set your heart to rights then I will be inclined to forgive you. I might even recommend you as good and dependable nobleman. But that shall only happen if you change yourself, truly. And do not try to deceive me. I know what is in men's heart before they know it themselves."

After his advice, and the healer's tending, Amlugion was escorted out of Faramir's domain with all his belongings.

The next gathering for a feast scarcely involved nobles. Instead, Rangers from both Men and Elves graced the hall. Appetising food was served, with freshly caught game earlier in the day, drizzled with gravy and spiced with crushed herbs and exotic spices. It was more relaxed affair. Éowyn's daring combat was told many times over. At last, Éowyn begged for some respite from the tale, even when she laughed along with them. Legolas knelt before Éowyn, arms wide in mock reverence.

"I shall hold you as valuable as the family jewels," Legolas claimed before dissolving into fits of laughter. Éowyn laughed along with him and helped him up. Alfred, Faramir's second in command, bent towards Faramir and muttered, "Does he know that his words have a double meaning?"

"He is an Elf," Faramir said, grinning as he joined the applause. "They are largely innocent that way. I doubt he knows."

Meanwhile, Legolas grabbed his glass and hopped up a nearby table with light feet. He turned and faced the hall, eyes twinkling merrily.

"A toast!" The Elf proclaimed, holding his glass up high. "To the fair lady Éowyn. May her swings always prove true and her husband remains safe from her blows!"

"Hear, hear!" Faramir shouted, earning rippling laughter from his men.

Laughing, Éowyn raised her glass with them.

 **~S~**

 **Author's Note:**

I always considered that Faramir and Éowyn possessed a special kind of marriage, in which they each understood and respected each other's boundaries. They went through a period in which they got to know each other, when they were confined to the Healing Houses, and that became the basis of their marriage.

Enjoyed it? Leave a review!


End file.
